No One But You (2 page)

“I only have the best of intentions,” Jackson said, raising his hands in surrender.

“And what are those intentions?”

Jackson dared to take her hand, between his hands. He felt the slight tug from her, but continued his hold. “No offense to my bluntness. I want to make amends. Maybe we can become friends again.”

Sara stopped trying to pull her hand away from his firm grip, as one of his hands had casually slipped around her wrist. She didn’t feel threatened, despite her strong desire to pull away from Jackson. His touch reawakened addictive memories of his caresses along the length of her body. Yet, it also stoked the memories of his rejection.

“Jackson, I don’t need your friendship. You already used and abused my trust. Frankly, I’m still in the deficit in that department, especially where you’re concerned.”

Jackson finally released her hand.

Sara touched her wrist where the spot now cooled. His sudden appearance shocked her system to its core. The aftereffects of the adrenaline rush left her jittery. She couldn’t bear one more minute in such close proximity to him. His stated intentions added to the unease.

“I’m heading back to my party.” Sara backed away from him, and left the storage room.

“Me, too.” He followed her into the crowd.

“There you are,” Denise said, with the rest of the crew standing nearby in a cluster. They all grinned, looking pleased with themselves.

“You could’ve asked me,” she said to her girlfriends. Sara had to pull in her emotions to deal with Jackson. His appearance had shocked her to the point that she could barely handle a coherent thought.

“This was supposed to be a special birthday party. How screwed up is that!” she shouted over the music, which suddenly switched to a softer, romantic melody. Her emphatic pronouncement, now heard by nearby guests, caused an unsettling silence.

“Hey, don’t blame them. I’ll leave so you can enjoy yourself. Have a happy birthday,” Jackson said. He raised his hand to touch her, but then lowered it to his side.

Sara stayed rooted to the spot as Jackson passed. His boyish features had matured into a chiseled face with piercing eyes, a long nose and wide, full lips. His dark thick hair had been trimmed to a sharp, clean-edged contour.

Her mother claimed he reminded her of a young Harry Belafonte. But to her, she matched him with Terrence Howard—handsome with a hint of bad boy to spice up things.

Nothing about him was out of place. Jackson thrived on being in control. He glided through the room with an easy gait, drawing a healthy share of admiring glances from her female guests.

“Go after him,” Denise urged, pushing on her arm.

“No,” Sara replied. She’d done her share of running after this man, including crying and begging. Her humiliation ran deep, like a lingering wound unable to heal. Talking to Jackson, reviving memories, held no guarantee that she’d be at peace. She wasn’t at peace, now.

“Do you want me to get him?” Naomi asked, placing a comforting arm around her shoulder.

“He’s going out the door.” Asia walked forward a couple steps, then looked back at Sara.

Athena, always the performer, took center stage in front of the group. “I can’t blame Sara. Jackson was a moron for doggin’ her. He’s not all that. She doesn’t need to be sniffing after any man. Money isn’t everything.” She pursed her lips and pointed to the exit. “But let me just say that he pulled up in a very nice Porsche.”

“Well, I’ll go to the door, but only to see the car.” Sara hurried toward the door, glad to have a good reason to show an interest.

She exited the building, amazed to feel the warm outdoor temperature only a few degrees cooler due to a slight breeze. Despite the party having started over an hour ago, more guests were still arriving. Sara greeted them, keeping a watchful eye toward the parking lot. Admittedly she didn’t claim to be an expert on identifying cars. But she could spot a Porsche with no problem.

Satisfied that he wasn’t parked in the lot immediately in front of her, she followed the sidewalk toward the side of the building. A man ahead blocked her path while he gabbed on the phone. She had the choice of walking on the grass to get around or stepping into the road. “Excuse me,” she said irritably.

“So sorry.” Jackson snapped shut the cell phone and turned. The repentant look flashed to a happy grin. “Hey, didn’t expect to see you out here.”

“I’m not out here to see you.” Sara hated being flustered every time they shared common space. “I came outside to see a car.”

Jackson followed her searching gaze over the parking lot. “Any car in particular? Maybe I can help?”

“Why should you help?” Sara glared at him, as he readily scanned the lot.

“Like I said, earlier, I’m here to make amends.”

Again she couldn’t get over now good he looked. Being this gorgeous without enhancement was too sinful. She didn’t miss his cologne lightly scenting the air. She enjoyed the smell as a guilty pleasure.

Sara twisted her lips with exasperation. “I’m looking for a Porsche.”

“Whoa! That’s an expensive item. Expecting a friend of yours?”

Sara shrugged. No need to let him get in her business.

“Hope he comes soon,” Jackson said. “Here’s my car if you want to wait.” He pointed his car keys and unlocked the door.

Sara almost stumbled on the sidewalk when Jackson headed to a basic gold-toned sedan. “This is your car?” her voice squeaked.

“Yeah, it’s a rental, what can I say.”

“I thought you had…a Porsche.” She groaned and shook her head. Athena was going to die tonight.

Jackson chuckled. “You thought I was driving a Porsche. That’s why you came out. Or maybe it was to talk?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Let me get this straight. You weren’t looking for a boyfriend?”

“You’re not allowed to get into my personal life.”

“You’re beautiful. Successful. And single.”

Sara retreated a step. Her current status and his interest spelled danger. She wanted to run.

“I know this isn’t the place to talk about us.” He held up his hand. “I meant that I’d like to talk about me.” Jackson exhaled heavily, shoving his hands into his pockets. “This isn’t coming out right. I see you and lose my concentration. I want to hear how you’re doing. I’d like to know if you’ve followed any of your dreams.”

“Sounds like you want to know if I survived you?”

“Yes,” Jackson answered.

Sara chewed on the corner of her mouth. Her heart pounded, her palms were moist, her emotions stayed in a whirl. When he’d rejected her, she’d been naive, impulsive and gullible.

She had learned quickly to reject her old patterns of behavior. Being the victim could become habitual. She didn’t want to be a repeat offender with Jackson. But darn it, he still exuded a sensuality that lessened her inhibitions.

Cupping his jaw, she took advantage of his mouth, which was slack from shock, to kiss him boldly, unapologetically and more than a little voraciously. His response came back swiftly, as he was ready to take charge, but she wasn’t finished making her mark. His wide mouth was hers to tame. When his hand slipped under her blouse and touched the small of her back, the sensation sparked her sanity to the surface.

Sara pushed him away as if afraid they’d become unnaturally stuck. “Yeah, I’d say that I’ve survived and I’m over you. Now you can have that memory to hold onto.” She spun on her heel and headed back to her party. A cup of ice should cool her lips, which were hot for more contact with Jackson’s mouth. She was at a loss as to what to do for the rest of her body, as she yearned for Jackson’s touch.

Jackson couldn’t move his legs, even if he wanted. She had jacked up his system into overload. If he’d been able to predict what she’d intended, she’d still be locked in his embrace.

Sara had been his college sweetheart. They’d pledged to love each other for the rest of their lives. Little did he know that he’d have to make the toughest decision of his life, which resulted in their relationship being torn beyond repair. All along he knew he’d made the biggest mistake.

He touched his mouth where the memory of the kiss lingered. “It’s not over, Sara. I want back in your life.”

E
arly the next morning, Jackson reviewed his latest airline ticket. The travel agency had expressed-mailed the packet to him at the hotel. This change to his itinerary was the last item that needed to be fixed. He’d extended his stay at the hotel, changing his room selection from a standard hotel room to a business class suite. Might as well be comfortable.

One more item of business required his attention. He placed the call and waited for his father to answer.

“Hi, Dad. It’s me. I’m in Chicago.”

“Jack? Didn’t know that you were going to Chicago. Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been working on a meeting with the owner of a realty company that plans to build a development on the south side of the city. They’ve got a great sales force, plus we could be the preferred lenders for the new housing development. I want you to be the front-man on this,” his father explained.

Jackson squeezed his eyes shut. Being the front-man translated into long, tedious hours playing project manager. Nothing or no one came in front of or in place of any of his father’s visions.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Jackson cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder. He clasped his hands, flexing his fingers in readiness for the explosive reaction when his father learned his new itinerary.

“Jack, are you listening?”

“Yes, Dad.” Jackson decided to plunge ahead. “I’ve also got a promising lead that I’m following up in Chicago. I’m meeting with a developer and investor, Ted Beavers, who has a lot of clout in the downtown redevelopment plans. Long-term, it may mean expanding the company, but I think it’s worth considering. I’m planning to drop in and make myself available for a few days. Two weeks should be sufficient. I don’t mind looking over a few office sites.”

“Whoa! You’re moving a little fast there. But you’ve earned a little free rein, especially with the million-dollar loan we managed to broker last month. I’m still grinning over that one. I’ll let you have one week.”

“It’ll definitely take more than a week.”

“Give me a status report at the end of the week and I’ll make the call then.”

Jackson could practically hear the calculator running figures and profit margins in his father’s head. His father constantly reminded his brother, sister and him about his childhood days when he worked brutal hours for a mere few dollars to house and feed his family.

“Okay, son, keep me posted on what’s happening with Beavers. If you need me to fly down and close the deal, let me know right away. I’ll need a few days notice, though. By the way, I’m taking your mother away for a few days to celebrate her birthday. Tired of her complaining. You know my philosophy, not working equals losing money.”

“Where are you going?” Jackson knew his mother would be pleased. His father put the company before her needs most of the time.

“I think a trip to a resort in the Caribbean will have her smiling. She can hit the beaches and whatever else you do on those islands. I don’t like to waste time, I’ve scheduled a meeting with a member from the board of tourism in Barbados. You have to be a citizen to buy land, but I’m interested in being an investor in beach-front property. There’s got to be loopholes.”

“Dad!” Jackson interrupted. “Could you, for once, focus on family. On your wife.” No one dared talk to his father in this manner. Maybe the physical distance, maybe seeing Sara, maybe approaching his limit for doing his father’s bidding inspired him to take the older man on. “Dad?” Jackson didn’t like the protracted silence.

“Let me know how the meeting goes, then get back here.”

His father wasn’t the type to yell and pound his chest. Actually, the quiet tone and enunciation of every word told him that his father didn’t care for his input. Jackson expected that he’d pay for his temporary madness one way or the other with sacrificing his free time for one of his father’s projects. Even so, he thought he’d better give his mother a heads-up about his father’s plans.

Forewarning each other had saved them from his father’s sermons about a variety of pet peeves. Jackson called his mother and filled her in quickly on his earlier conversation with his father.

“Jackson, why would you cause trouble? I’m perfectly willing to keep myself busy if your father has to conduct business. After all it’s not every day that I get a trip to Barbados. I’m sure he’ll rest a day or so.” His mother continued justifying his father’s attitude.

“He takes you for granted, Mom. This is your birthday, after all. The least he could do is pretend to be romantic.” Jackson didn’t usually get into his parents’ private affairs. Their marriage reminded him of a business arrangement, with unequal distribution of power.

“That’s enough. Don’t be callous, it’s not like you. Besides, I’ve been with your father since we struggled from the ground up. Nothing in life comes for free. We all have to make sacrifices. Look at us now. As a family we get to enjoy the fruits of your father’s labors. Respect that, son,” his mother advised.

Jackson accepted the chastisement, but stubbornly held onto the belief that he was right. There was no doubt that his family lived a comfortable life. His father wanted him to follow in his footsteps with the family business. Jackson sensed that he’d demanded the same obedience from Jackson when it came to matters of the heart.

“When you find that special someone to share your life, you’ll understand,” his mother offered.

“I once did.”

“Oh, Jackson, please let’s not talk about that mistake you almost made in your life. Move on. You risked losing everything.”

“Lucky for everyone, the family business is still intact,” Jackson said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“You have a knack for this business. Not even your brother or sister showed the business savvy necessary to survive in this market.” His mother’s praise poured over him heavy and thick in a syrupy way that always constricted him.

“And they have satisfying lives with their families,” Jackson said, continuing to stress his point.

“Yes, they do. I’m glad that your dad and I were able to ensure that would happen by sending them to Ivy League universities and joining those professional organizations. Your sister’s debutante ball landed her Minister Brown’s son. And she is as happy as a mother and a wife. She aspired to be a minister’s wife. As for your brother, we’re hoping that Thadeus will follow in his father’s footsteps soon to be a minister of his church.”

Jackson was ready to break off from this conversation and its uncomfortable direction. “Good talking to you, Mom.”

“Okay, Jackson. Hurry home. We have much to talk about.”

Jackson hated to ask, but leaving this call with an ominous parting didn’t sit well with him. “What’s the matter?”

“Sweetheart, it’s not pressing. The Rosewell and the Finney families have hinted about setting up lunch dates with you and their daughters. I think they were feeling me out when I went to my
Pilates
class at the club yesterday. Mrs. Finney came to me first, but the Rosewells have such a great family reputation. Don’t worry, I’ll do the prescreening.”

Jackson gritted his teeth. “Goodbye, Mom.”

He placed the phone on the receiver. He’d managed to fend off his mother’s plans to hook him up with various choice families. Apparently, her promise to stay out of that part of his life must have expired.

He and his siblings had been raised to value family connections. His father had stopped all of his children from playing basketball, football and even baseball. Instead they were signed up at the country club to play tennis, golf and polo. The ready explanation, if asked, came down to the business networking potential that these sports afforded.

Thank goodness a bad fall from a horse during his first polo match helped keep him permanently out of that sport, Jackson thought.

He rubbed his jaw, furiously trying to erase the tension that his parents caused. His two-week hiatus from his father’s grasp couldn’t be wasted. Every second counted to restore the priorities he wanted in his life.

Jackson dressed, skipped breakfast and headed out of the hotel. The continued warm temperature hit his face with a surprising level of humidity for that time of the morning. For the trip, he’d packed light with the intention to visit Sara’s party and then return home. Shopping would have to be added to his to-do list.

The first item on the list was to find out where Sara worked. He didn’t want to spend his precious two weeks trying to track her down. Short of parking near the community building that housed the party, he had no idea how to find her.

“Hey, Jackson, wait up.”

Jackson looked toward the SUV that stopped with a squeal of tires in front of him. He recognized the two faces grinning back at him. Denise and Naomi beckoned for him to approach. He looked toward the backseat. The twins were missing in action. Still, facing two of Sara’s sorors could feel like going up against an entire squad.

“Good morning, ladies. Perfect timing, as always.”

“Get in, we’re about to make your day.” Naomi motioned to the backseat.

Jackson complied. His mood lightened considerably. He tried to settle back in the seat as Denise’s erratic driving took them through the downtown area, heading north.

“We’re taking you to where our girl works.” Denise spoke to him, as she caught his gaze in the rearview mirror.

“I’m grateful for your help.” Jackson couldn’t believe his luck kept. “I’m curious, though.”

“Yeah.” Denise shot him a glance over her shoulder.

“Why are you all so intent on helping me with Sara?”

“Call it an intervention. But, the truth is that only one of us pushed for this,” Naomi clarified. “I was the one in your corner. The twins, especially, wanted the life squeezed out of you.”

“Always knew they were vicious,” he tried to joke, but couldn’t muster a laugh.

“Remember before I pledged with Sara, you’d talk to me about her in science lab. You left those trust-fund babes to talk to the shy little girl from Ohio. My sorors didn’t know you until much later, but I got to witness that first blush of romance. I got to see how your face lit up when you talked about her. Even your boys couldn’t shake your lovesick attitude with their constant ribbing.”

Jackson recalled some of those cherished memories of Sara, as Naomi talked. Sarafina had captured his interest when she’d modeled for an art student. Her body cut a graceful portrait, with its elegant lines and soft expressions. Draped along a reclining chair, she looked like a queen of any continent. Posed in front of an assortment of clay pottery, her skin had gleamed its own shade of bronze with a hint of cinnamon coloring.

“What I want to know is what you plan to do if she doesn’t want you,” Denise’s voice intruded with harsh practicality.

Jackson shrugged. “I have two weeks to convince her otherwise.”

“And you think that you’re the man to do that,” Denise mocked. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you. We’ll all help you because my soror’s heart is weak enough to still want you.”

“She said that?” Jackson stared out of the window. He sounded pathetically hopeful. Hope was all he had. “What has she been up to? I can’t imagine that there isn’t someone in the background.”

“There was—” Naomi began.

“That’s for Sara to tell.” Denise turned to Naomi, not hiding their exchange of looks.

Sara with another man sickened him. But why should she stick around for him? Did this man still play a role in her life?

They rode the rest of the way in silence. Jackson didn’t mind. He wanted time to focus on what he wanted to say. The change from the busy downtown area to the more residential landscape quieted his mind from the unpleasant scenarios about Sara’s personal life.

Denise turned on to a university campus. The landscape had a New England quality with old English-style buildings and a backdrop of golden-and-brown hues heralding the incoming fall foliage. Jackson read the simple sign for Dickenson Women’s College. So this was where Sara worked, on a quiet campus nestled on the edge of an expansive field.

The layout of the campus provided an open setting with low-lying buildings dotting the tree-populated area. Several walking paths crisscrossed the acres, connecting buildings, like a busy beehive. Students milled around in various groups or as solitary figures sitting on benches or reclining under trees.

Denise pulled into a staff-only parking area and pulled up next to the curb. “Hop out, big man. Head down this path and make a right into the Clarendon Building. That’s where she teaches.” Denise stared at him in the mirror.

“Is she teaching at this minute?”

“Yep, but the class lets out in five minutes. Then she’ll have a two-hour break,” Naomi answered. “Jackson, she’s gone through a lot, but the girl you fell in love with is still in there.”

Jackson nodded, although he didn’t understand the cryptic advice.

“Give me a buzz when you’re ready.” Denise scribbled her number and handed it over to Naomi.

“Thanks.” Jackson took the note from Naomi and then stepped back onto the curb. He watched Denise head out of the parking lot, leaning on her horn as a few girls took too long to make their way through the crosswalk. He shook his head and then turned to face the unknown.

Jackson entered the building, scanning the lobby in case Sara stood among the students. No one paid him any attention as he slowly walked through the lobby. Although Denise had given him good information, he didn’t know what class Sara taught. He looked at his watch. Two minutes left before class ended.

Jackson opted for the right wing of the building. Afraid that time would sabotage his efforts, he ran down the hall, peeking into the small windows in the middle of each door. He made it toward the end of the hall with no sign of her. Which way to go? One option was to take the stairs to the next upper level, or stay on the current level and head down the left side of the building.

Undecided, he remained stuck pondering the pros and cons with little time left before classrooms emptied of their students. A group of young women approached one of the classrooms that he’d checked.